


The Love That Remains

by kunstvogel



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Hospitalization, Insomnia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunstvogel/pseuds/kunstvogel
Summary: Lew's falling apart after his divorce with Kathy, but there's more to it than that- but he won't tell Dick, and eventually it all becomes too much.





	1. Chapter 1

Lewis is somewhere between life and death. It’s humid, the air thick and sticky like molasses, yet he shivers, chilled to the core even as sweat drips down the back of his neck. Lew can’t make out much of the world around him; the ceiling fan spins over his head and the velvet upholstery of his mother’s settee caresses his fingertips, but the rest of the room is beyond his grasp, blurred and dark like shadows on a foggy night.

The guilt and doubt crawl back up, the kind that had been aching in his stomach and squeezing his lungs like a snake slowly strangling him for the past week. The feeling is calmer now, dulled by the alcohol and the drugs churning in his gut, but it’s still there, still terrifying and painful all at once.

He reaches out blindly for the whiskey he knows is sitting on the coffee table before him, knocking over several emptied bottles in the process. He finds an unopened bottle and breaks the seal, immediately taking a long swig of it. It burns does his throat, which is already raw from before- he’d been crying, scared to let go. But then the whiskey found him and washed it all away, made him feel numb and complacent. He’d swallowed all the pills in his bathroom cupboard, just to make sure that feeling stayed.

Lew thinks about family. He couldn’t know that his little sister would understand. And Dick and Harry- would they blame themselves? They’re better off without him, Lew knows, but do they understand that? Dick in particular- God, he loves him  _ so  _ much, but he can’t stand the thought of holding him back. He can’t stand the thought of rejection, or worse, hurting Dick with his selfish words and actions. As for himself- Lewis can’t know what comes after life. Would there be a life after death far worse than he could ever imagine?

“I deserve it,” Lew mumbles. “I deserve Hell.”

Lewis can feel his coordination going, his consciousness wearing down. He empties the bottle in his hand and tosses it aside, reaching for his cell phone. Lew pulls up his conversation with Dick, re-reading the messages with increasingly blurry vision. He smiles faintly, glad for the time he’d gotten to spend with him. With shaking fingers, he types out one last message, hits send, and tosses the phone aside, finally letting the darkness swallow him.

*

_ One week earlier... _

 

“She’s leaving me.”

Dick glances over at Lew, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Kathy’s leaving me, Dick. My fiancé is leaving me.” Lew stares sullenly down into his coffee as Dick tears into his omelette.

“Does Blanche know?” Dick talks around his food. It’s one of the few roguish behaviors Lew has seen out of his best friend since high school. He snorts, amused.

“Of course she knows. Half of the Nixons know by now; Lewis Nixon the Third, failure at everything in life. Can’t even keep a woman happy, so what use am I?”

“Lew,” Dick chastises. “You’re not a failure.”

“I beg to differ.” Lew pushes his eggs around on the plate, not interested in eating. Really, he’d like to just go home and crawl into the bottle, but Dick promised him breakfast a month ago and picked today, of all days, to follow through with it. It’s cold and bleak outside, but the diner has the heat up too high and Lew is sweating, which only adds to his dark mood. “I mean, look at my job. I’ve been doing the same pointless shit for five years now, no pay raise or nothin’, and all the other places I applied at won’t even look at me.”

“Well, maybe you’re not trying hard enough.” Dick grimaces as soon as he says it. “I- I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, no, I get it. It’s fine. I don’t try hard enough at anything; never have, never will.”

Dick sighs. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lew shrugs, a quick twitch of his shoulders. He’s not willing to hear any more and shows it by tucking into his food. His stomach churns in protest, but if it keeps Dick from opening his mouth again, so be it. He’ll suffer a little for some quiet.  _ Hell, I’d suffer a lot for guaranteed quiet, _ he thinks. The thought gives him pause.  _ If everything could go quiet… _

“Lew?” Dick’s brow is creased in concern. It annoys him.

“What now, Dick?” His words come out sharper than intended, and Dick’s slight recoil doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Dick shrugs, a nervous gesture. “I’m sorry Kathy left you.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he clams up, casting a glance out the window. It’s snowing furiously outside; a chill coming off of the glass.

“It’s not your fault,” Lew replies flatly.

*

When Lewis goes home that night, he pulls out every pill bottle he can find in the house and lines them up on the table, in a neat row, like little white and gold soldiers. He doesn’t think about dying. He thinks about all the times he’d dragged people down with his weight, his constant struggles and near-chronic negativity. It’s not like he hadn’t had moments of joy - Lewis was capable of finding happiness, but once he was alone it was sapped out of him and the doubt and self-hatred that ran constantly in the back of his mind couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Mostly, Lew thinks about silence. There was always so much noise in his life- his parents screaming at each other, the hired chef clattering in their kitchen, the parties and the factory and Yale, even. It seems like there’s never any silence. Even now in the dead of night in January, there are car tires crunching through the snowy driveway, the howl of the wind in the distance.

When he met Dick, Lew found a boy quieter than any other he’d met in his life. In high school, Dick was studious, more interested in grades and scholarships than girls or parties. He helped Lew get his grades up to Yale standards, spending hours with him in his little room in his family’s farmhouse and taking breaks in between to swim together in the pool in his backyard.

The two of them became inseparable, and while Dick was not able to go to Yale with him thanks to the sheer cost of tuition there, they both wound up together in Philadelphia after graduating and split an apartment for a year while they saved up for their own places.

Somewhere in that year, Lewis realized he’d fallen in love with his best friend.

Then he met Kathy. He’d spent as much time with her as he could to stay away from Dick. He convinced himself he loved Kathy and then he believed it, and when she started using him for his money, Dick pointed it out. But Lew was angry at himself for loving Dick, the straight-A student and all-around perfect guy he’d met in high school, back when he had braces and hadn’t quite grown into his tall, lean figure. So he rented an apartment he couldn’t afford and asked Kathy if she would marry him.

Kathy dragged him through the mud every chance she got, but Lew was already used to putting himself down and hardly noticed. He couldn’t love himself, and he knew he didn’t love Kathy. But he still slipped that ring on her finger and spoke with his estranged mother about churches and wedding cakes over the phone, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach all the while.

Dick never approved of their relationship. He knew Kathy was using his best friend, sucking him dry like a leech. Lewis knew it too, but he ignored it. He was determined to prove himself to his parents, his friends, to himself. He could make it work, he thought. A pretty wife and a big house and 2.5 kids. Easy as pie.

Kathy cheated on him, Lewis ran out of money, and Dick got promoted and given longer shifts. Lew fell apart and Kathy didn’t care, Kathy left to live with her new boyfriend, left her ring on the table with a nasty goodbye note written in her beautiful cursive. Dick had been working too much to be around since; their breakfast was the first time Lew had seen him since Kathy left.

Lew thinks about silence, then drives halfway across town and pawns off the rings to pay his rent.

*

Lew makes it through the start of the week. He leaves the pills in the cupboard and doesn’t drink much through the day, goes to work and convinces Dick to go out for a night out on the town after. At the club, Lew sets him up with a pretty girl named DeEtta before wandering off in search of something he knows Dick would never want or give.

When he steps out of the club an hour later, Dick is standing next to the door in his wool coat, shoulders scrunched up to his ears against the chill, looking put out.

“So what happened with DeEtta?” Lew asks, playfully jabbing Dick with his elbow. He’s hot and sweaty, tipsy, and very satisfied with his score for the night.

Dick frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well, did you get lucky?”

“Oh,” Dick shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “No, we just talked. She’s...not really my type.”

“Aw. I hope you weren’t standing out here for too long. Let’s go home.”

*

A few days after Dick takes him out for lunch, Lew wakes up in an awful mood. He stays home with the heat cranked up and sleeps most of the day away. His boss calls twice; Dick sends six text messages asking after him. At the end of the day Lew tells him he’s  _ fine, it was just a migraine, don’t worry about it.  _ He knows that Dick has migraines sometimes, bad enough to keep him home, and it works.

_ Okay. Just call off work next time. Hang tough. _

Lew skips another day and takes out the pill bottles. He drinks half of the Vat 69 in his fridge and ignores his phone completely. Dick comes by, worrying after him, tells Lew he has to go to work tomorrow or he’ll get fired. Lewis smiles and nods and pretends it’s all okay, but in the back of his mind he knows. He knows that his fate is in his own hands; he can make everything go quiet.

It’s a good thought.

The day it happens, Lew ties up loose ends. He says goodbye to the things he loves, goes for a walk in the snow and gets home just before the blizzard moves in. Lewis empties his liquor cabinet and swallows the pills, and just before the lights go out, he texts Dick goodbye, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick’s phone chirps just as he’s climbing into his car. He’s quick to pull it out on the chance it might be Lew; he’d been worried sick over him since he’d stopped going to work. Dick has a fairly strong sense for trouble. He may not always be able to read or understand Lew’s emotions very well, but he knows when Lew’s on a path to self-destruction.

The message he reads gives him pause.

_ Thxs for evrything,, you were a good friend, Dick. Goodbye. _

“Christ. Lew,” Dick whispers, texting back quickly.  _ What are you talking about, Lew? I’ll always be your friend.  _ He throws his phone on the seat and jams the key in the ignition. The car stalls a few times, and Dick curses at the old machine and the freezing weather. Panic churns in his stomach, but he tamps it down, determined to get to Lew before- before it’s too late. He can’t think of the alternative. The moment Dick gets the car started he whips out of the parking lot, rushing through the slushy Philadelphia streets far too quickly to be safe.

Dick pulls up to Lew’s brownstone and nearly forgets to shut the car off in his haste to get inside. The snow begins to fall as he seeks out Lew’s spare key, having found the door locked. With fingers clumsy from anxiety and half-frozen in the cold, he somehow manages to unlock the door and lets himself in, finding the house dark and smelling absolutely rank.

“Lewis?” Dick scours the foyer and sitting room, flipping the lights on as he goes. “Lew, answer me.” He steps into the living room and turns on the lamp.

“Oh, God.”

The sight of Lew shocks Dick to the core. Sitting slumped on the couch, skin faintly blue and glistening with sweat, Lewis looks dead. But then he draws in a sharp breath and opens his eyes, and Dick is at his side in an instant.   
  
"Lew, what did you do?" He's already calling for an ambulance, phone in one hand and Lew's cold cheek in the other. Lewis doesn't reply, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He reeks of alcohol - and it's no wonder why, as the coffee table is absolutely littered with empty whiskey bottles.   
  
As Dick explains the situation to the dispatcher, Lew begins to stir, a soft groan the only warning before he throws up on himself weakly.   
  
"Jesus," Dick swears, flinching away. "He's throwing up now."   
  
"Just keep his head up, make sure he doesn't choke," the man tells him, "and don't panic if he starts having a seizure. Try to keep him conscious."   
  
"Okay," Dick agrees unsteadily. He reaches for Lew again as his head lolls. Sick dribbles down his chin, but he seems unable to react, his body limp and gaze vacant. "Help is on the way, Lew. Just- just stay with me now."   
  
Dick forces himself to relax, trying desperately to control the panic thrumming through his veins. He's always been good at managing his fear, keeping his cool, but this is different. This is his best friend, dying a little more with each moment that passes. It's then that Lew goes rigid and he's wracked with violent, full-body shudders. Dick swears again, grabbing his clammy hand, terrified. He’s never witnessed someone in the midst of a seizure before, and it’s absolutely terrifying. His chest feels too tight, his jaw clenched so hard it aches, and his thoughts run a mile a minute as his best friend convulses on the couch and bites his tongue, blood trickling out of his mouth.   
  
Thankfully, the paramedics burst in just as Lew starts coming down from it, and they take him onto a gurney and whisk him away, leaving a police officer behind to question Dick. The officer keeps his questions short, sensing Dick’s urgency. He feels raw and exposed, like the skin that isn’t yet healed beneath a scab that’s just been ripped off. 

“He’ll be taken to the hospital just down Spruce street,” the officer tells Dick, once he’s finished questioning him. “Hope he makes it through alright.”

“Yeah. Thanks, officer. Have a nice night.”   
  
Once he’s left, Dick locks up the house again and drives out to the hospital, unable to live with the uncertainty of Lew surviving this. He’s been listed as Lew’s emergency contact for years, so he gets into the waiting room without a fuss.

The hospital is so busy it makes his head spin. Doctors, police officers, nurses, patients, and visitors of all kinds flow through the halls all around him. A television in the corner plays children’s programming, the flashes of light and color and noise constantly threatening to pull his attention away from the magazine he’s not actually reading. The commotion only serves to worsen his anxiety, and he ends up running to the single-stall bathroom, sick.

Dick falls back hard onto his knees, gasping for air, the ceiling spinning above him. He flushes the toilet and slides down the tiled wall, collapsing in a heap on the floor. It’s all too much. He can’t handle the thought of losing Lew, the only friend he has who really understands the feelings he has beneath his reservations. He can’t imagine being alone again. He knows there’s more to it, that it isn’t just the threat of their friendship ending that’s making him panic. But there’s no way Lew could love him the same way he loves him - Lew, with his rich family and all of the pretty girlfriends he’d had, his big brick house just waiting to be filled with squealing charcoal-haired babies.

Dick cradles his head in his hands and lets the sobs come out.

*

After a good twenty minutes, Dick manages to pull himself together again and takes his seat in the waiting room once more. The chaos of the hospital has subsided somewhat, but he’s completely numb to it anyway, physically and emotionally drained. It’s been over an hour since he called for the ambulance.

“Richard Winters?”

Dick jumps up. “That’s me. Is he- is Lew okay?”

The doctor smiles wanly. “He’ll survive. I’m Dr. Spina. I see that you’re listed as Lewis’s emergency contact- but you’re not family, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs. “I’m a close friend. He refused to list his parents for...personal reasons.”

Spina nods. “In any case, Lewis had to have his stomach pumped, but otherwise he’ll be okay. However, he’s a little malnourished from not eating properly.” He pauses, expression turning serious. “Richard, do you have any idea why Lewis did this? Has he ever seemed to be feeling suicidal in the past?”

“No, I didn’t think so. He’d get depressed a lot, though. Was there- it wasn’t just the drinking?”

“Lewis took a considerable amount of prescription pills along with the alcohol he drank. Based on his medical history, it’s safe to assume that your friend has been struggling with severe alcoholism and depression for quite some time.” He pauses, letting Dick digest the information. “Do you know of anything recent that may have driven him to attempting to commit suicide?”

“His fiancé left him a week ago. I’ve been working more than I used to, so I’m not around him as often as I used to be, but I know he’s definitely upset about it. But I never thought it’d lead to this. He was angry more than anything.”

Dr. Spina nods. “It’s too early to say, but I’d think something more profound triggered this. Something Lewis isn’t likely to open up about. Regardless, we’ll need to keep him here for at least a week to make sure he’s stabilized. He’ll be receiving therapy from now on, as well.”

“Right,” Dick agrees. He already knows Lew won’t want anything to do with it. “I’m assuming you’ll want me to keep him under supervision once he’s released.”

“Yes, if it isn’t too much of a burden. He’s at risk for another attempt and leaving him alone without support could be potentially damaging. It would also be a great help if you had a few private sessions with Lewis’s psychiatrist to discuss your relationship with Lewis.”

“Of course.” Dick scrubs a hand over his face, exhausted. “Is he awake? I’d like to see him before I leave, if that’d be okay. I know it’s past visiting hours.”

“I doubt he’ll be awake, but you can certainly visit,” Spina agrees with a soft smile. “I’ll show you to his room.”

Spina leads him into a single-patient room tucked in the far corner of the hall, where the commotion of the hospital floor doesn’t quite reach. The room is dark save for the soft yellow light over the bed. Dick sinks into the chair next to his friend, his throat quickly growing sore with emotion. Lew looks a lot better than he did before - some of the color has returned to his face, though he is still pale, and he’s been cleaned up and dressed in a pale blue smock.

Lew’s left arm is laid out over the covers, an IV in the crook of his elbow and a pulse sensor on his index finger. His eyes are shut, his brows furrowed. The sparse lighting emphasizes the dark circles under his eyes and the faint bruises on his lips from the procedure. Dick reaches out for Lew’s hand and tangles their fingers together loosely.

“Hey, Lew,” he whispers. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m here. I’ll be back in the morning to see you again, I promise.” Lew’s fingers twitch in Dick’s grasp, but he doesn’t move an inch otherwise. Dick doesn’t expect him to; surely his energy is exhausted for the day. He lets go of Lew’s hand and stands, something ugly in his chest screaming at him to stay, that Lew might not be here come tomorrow morning.

Dick turns away from Lew and follows Spina out the door.

*

Back at home, Dick doesn’t cry. He’d half expected to- the tears had been threatening the whole drive from the hospital, the ache still there in his chest and throat, but it’d subsided once he stepped into his warm, darkened apartment, leaving him feeling numb more than anything.

The storm had come and gone during the time he’d spent in the hospital, the sun long since disappeared into the winter night. He turns the hallway lights on and peels off his coat and boots, only now realizing his hunger. Dick pads over to the kitchen and pulls out a box of leftovers, scraping the food out onto a plate and sticking it in the microwave. He eyes the coffee machine, tempted, but decides against it, not wanting to make his insomnia any worse. Dick fixes a mug of hot chocolate instead.

He settles down on the couch with his meal, savoring the quiet while he eats. Dick doesn’t think about Lew. He doesn’t think about anything, really, his mind echoing, empty, body running on autopilot.  _ Lift an arm, chew, swallow. Repeat.  _ Just like a robot.

It doesn’t take any effort to clean up and get ready for bed. He slides under the covers and stares out the window, mind blank. He’s miles away from sleep, and stays that way for a good chunk of the night, watching the odd car drive past, the streetlights burned into the backs of his eyes like stars when they finally fall shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Lewis dreams.

He dreams he’s falling, rushing down to an unknown end faster than he can think to wonder why. He’d wanted this - the end of his useless life - for so long, but now that it’s happening, he’s scared. It’s too rough, too painful, thorns scratching against his bare skin, tearing him apart. Lew screams for help, but there’s something in his throat, choking him, blocking his voice. He claws at his throat and opens his mouth in a wordless sob. He’s falling faster and faster, going deeper and deeper into the void-

Lew opens his eyes. He’s not sure what he’s seeing at first, blurs of blue and white and coppery red-orange. There’s a quiet beeping sound behind him, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s in a hospital.

“No,” he rasps. “No, no,  _ no!”  _ His voice comes out hoarse, his throat protesting the exertion of speaking.

“Lew?” He looks up, his vision focusing, and sees Dick sitting beside him, eyes wide and over-bright with tears. He looks scared. Lew feels the anger boiling over in his chest and clenches his jaw, turning to glare out the window. “Lew...a-are you-”

“Why am I here, Dick?” Lew seethes.

“What? Lew-”

“Goddammit, Dick! Why am I here?! I should be- I-I-” Lew wilts, the anger suddenly melting away. Horribly, he starts to cry, and Dick presses a hand into his shoulder, rubbing circles into his skin. It’s meant to be comforting, but Lew doesn’t want Dick’s pity. He can’t bear the thought of having to carry on after this. “I wanted to die,” he sobs, hiding behind his hands. Dick’s hand stills, and Lew hears him inhale sharply.

“Lew...why didn’t you tell me you felt this way? I-I would have helped you...”

“You have  _ no idea _ how I feel, Dick,” Lew hisses. “I can guarantee that.”

Dick falls silent, and when Lew looks up at him for the first time, really looks at him, he looks awful, pale and washed-out, his lips pulled down in an angry frown.  _ Look what you did. You’re already ruining everything again. You should’ve died. Couldn’t even manage to get that right.  _ Lew sets his jaw, staring down at his hand where it lies on the bedspread, limp.

A doctor strides in, momentarily saving Lew the discomfort of sitting next to Dick in silence.

“Lewis, you’re awake,” the doctor observes.

“Unfortunately.”

He ignores Lew’s comment. “I’m Dr. Ralph Spina. I’ll be keeping an eye on you for the next week you’ll be here.”

“Week? What- what do you mean I’m staying here for an entire fucking week? I’m  _ fine,”  _ Lew snaps.

Spina just smiles at him and flips to another page on his clipboard. It pisses Lewis off, and he doesn’t bother to hide his sneer.

“You’ll start talk therapy today after lunch. Dr. Carwood Lipton has taken your case. I think you’ll both get along with him just fine,” he says, glancing up at Dick briefly. He turns back to Lew after a moment. “How are you feeling today, Lewis? Is there any pain?”

“Yeah, my throat and tongue are fucking killing me, thanks.”

Spina nods. “Your gag reflex made the procedure difficult,” he says. “The pain will probably go away within a few days. Are you aware that you had a seizure, Lewis? You bit your tongue. It could be worse, but it’ll take a while to heal.”

Lew notices how Dick seems to tense at the word  _ seizure  _ and frowns, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Well, if there’s nothing else bothering you, I’ll go make my rounds.” Lew waves Spina off, fairly certain there’s no chance of him begging some whiskey off the doctor.

“I was scared,” Dick says suddenly. Lew turns to look at him, confused. “When you had the seizure. I was there with you, Lew.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve never seen anyone having a seizure.” Dick looks at his knees. “I thought…”

“What, you thought I was gonna die? Well guess what, that’s exactly what I was going for.” Lew says it bitterly, and Dick cringes away as if struck.

“Lew, please,” Dick’s voice breaks, his stoic expression crumbling. His lip wobbles and he bites down on it, swallowing audibly. Lew can’t find it in him to be sympathetic and just stares hard at him. He knows it’s not what he ought to be doing, but he’s fucked everything else up anyway, so what does it matter if he ruins his only friendship too?

“Please what?” He pushes. “You want me to lie to you? To make you feel better? Tough shit, Dick. Time to grow the  _ fuck _ up. You shoulda just left me there to die on that fucking couch.”

Dick stands up then, shooting up out of his seat like a goddamned rocket. He hovers for a moment, fists clenched.

“Go on, hit me,” Lew jeers. “Make yourself feel good. God, you’re so  _ powerful _ , aren’t you? You saved my life, so now I owe you something, don’t I?”

“Stop it, Lew.”

“C’mon, just fucking hit me. I know you want to.” He watches as Dick’s jaw works, his face flushed red. He likes it more than he ought to, watching Dick’s composure slip away, watching his true colors come out. “Everything I’ve taken from you, and you still think you have to hold back, huh, Dick? Admit it, I’m the reason you haven’t got any friends. I’m the reason you can’t sleep at night. I’m a fucking leech. Don’t I deserve to die?  _ Don’t I?!” _

Dick’s eyes go wide, and Lew expects his fist to fly, but he whips around and stalks out the door, leaving Lew alone in his too-quiet room.

Lew doesn’t see Dick again that morning.

*

Dick’s anger carries him down the stairs and right out of the hospital. He hadn’t grabbed his coat on his way out and immediately starts to shiver in the thin long sleeved shirt and jeans he’s wearing, but he’s glad for the sting of each breath he draws into his lungs, the way the chill drives into his skin and lingers there like a bad cold.

He collapses onto one of the cement stairs, scrubbing his hands over his face. Dick’s exhaustion is finally catching up with him, and he longs for a cup of coffee. He’s sure he’d not gotten more than four hours of sleep. His eyes are watery and sore, and there’s a headache developing in his left temple.

Lew’s words echo in his head.  _ “I wanted to die.” “Don’t I deserve to die?!” _

Dick feels like he’ll be sick again. If only he’d known. Lew was so good at hiding it, at pretending he was okay, that he’d just had a bad day at work or was wrestling with a migraine. He should’ve known better. He should’ve noticed that Lew’s excuses came too frequently.

He thinks about his own feelings for Lew, thinks about how expressing them might only damage Lew further. Lew’s outburst was raw and honest- but it hurt Dick, it cut too deep into his heart, and he decides then to protect his own feelings, to keep them to himself.

Maybe when Lew is better, he decides, he’ll think about telling him. But for now it’s more important to help stabilize Lew, to get him back to the guy he was back when Dick first met him, sauve and sarcastic and generally happy with life.

He wonders what went wrong.

*

Lew’s anger fades away as soon as he realizes he’s really alone, and then the sadness wells up again. At this point he’s not even sure how to justify his emotions; they’re so strong, washing over him like waves, and he’s drowning in them.

He manages to pull himself onto his feet, finding a pair of thin cotton pants and slippers on the side table and putting them on. Lew drags the IV and sensors with him as he staggers over to the window, looking out over the snow-covered city. It’s nearly noon, but the sky is a morose shade of grey, the usually colorful buildings obscured by white blankets of snow.

Lew catches sight of his reflection in the glass and has to look away, disgust twisting his stomach into knots. He looks more and more like his father with every passing day. It scares the hell out of him sometimes, how much he’s turning into the old man. His throat calls out for a drink. Lew shuffles over to the bed and picks up the little paper cup on the bedside table, finding it filled with orange juice. He figures Dick must’ve left it there and throws it back like it’s a shot of whiskey, relishing how the acid burns his raw throat. He notices Dick’s coat draped over the back of his chair and frowns.

A nurse comes in, pushing a cart with a tray of food on it. He meets Lew’s eyes, and without changing expression, simply says: “Lunch.” Lew eyes his ID tag.  _ Eugene Roe. _

“Thanks.” He takes the tray, plopping down into the seat where Dick had been sitting before.

“Meds come with dinner,” Roe says gruffly. “See you then.” He leaves, and Lew inspects his meal. It’s not particularly palatable, and he ends up not eating much of anything but the Jell-O. He eventually gives up and pushes the tray away, moving to sit in front of the window. Lew stares out at the sky and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, spacing out for a while.


End file.
